


Blood for the Void

by brodylover



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Agender Character, Altar Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Begging, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bondage, Breathplay, Canon Universe, Cutting, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Oral Sex, Other, Power Bottom, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, The Void, agender outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: I was commissioned to write some Daud/Outsider smut that involved altar sex, bloodplay/drinking, dom/sub relations, some sort of bondage, and The Outsider having they/them pronouns. Really enjoyable to work on! Thank you very much commissioner!tumblr: whatsanapocalae





	Blood for the Void

Shrines are small little things, built out of bone, whale and other, driftwood, rope, and fine silk, a strange juxtaposition of finery and the sea. They are hidden away, kept from the Overseers, who would destroy them and lock their creators away in darkness until it was time to send them to The Void for the last. That didn’t deter the faithful though and it seemed more were made, in secret, every week. Daud did not use them, did not have one of his own, but rarely, and he did not like spending time speaking with his constant voyeur, unless it was necessary. When it was, The Outsider would come to him in his dreams. No work necessary on his part. 

He could smell them. Tucked away under pilings, built behind walls, buried deep within the houses that had no visitors aside from the rats that had taken over the ruins of the great city of Dunwall. They smelled of whale oil and sea water and something else, something that Daud nor any other marked could describe in words. 

The one that he was heading to was in an attic, hard to get to without the mark, and he was certain that the builder had lost their mind to plague far before building it in such a location. 

For him it was only a few blinks of the eye and then a slow dance through the tripwires that the owner had set in place. There were a few broken before his arrival and black holes in the walls from exploding bolts, having only just missed their target. Someone else had been there and he idly wondered at them. 

The shrine was dusty and bare, the charms and runes that were normally put upon them as a sort of sacrifice having been taken by whatever fool had made their way here before. Daud stood before it, staring at the space that the whale bone had once sat, an indent in the grime. He breathed. It had been a long time since he’d last done this. 

He’d heard it said that The Outsider would come to their marked when they came upon these shrines, but for him it had always taken something more. It may have been because he rarely came at all and the connection was weak, or it could have been that he was the least liked of The Outsider’s entertainment. 

He took his blade and slid it across his wrist, letting it join the multitude of scars that crossed white lines into his weathered skin. Some were from battles, some were from obstacles, some were from this, but most were from his own urgent need to feel something, anything, even if it were pain. 

His blood dripped onto the shrine and he tried to make a symbol, something important, not just a pool of blood, but there was not much to be done with splatters and he had never been much of an artist, although he’d hoped to be, at some time. 

Nothing. He grumbled. He shouldn’t have been surprised. There were a million other sights to see and, if he could trust the rumors told between his whalers, there were at least two others who were marked out there. There was no reason for The Outsider to give him any attention when there were better killers out there, ones who emoted after a kill, ones who had drive aside from coin. 

He pulled his coat closer around himself and turned from the shrine, not wanting to make his way back through the traps and back to the Flooded District with his dignity intact but his heart empty and cold. The Outsider was not coming, not for him, he would have to think of something other than his blood to give. 

“So.” Came a soft voice behind him, musing. He turned, found The Outsider standing there, arms crossed, just a few inches off of the ground. Always one for dramatics, that one. “Here you are, at last. It’s been a long time coming since you made your way to me.”

Daud looked them over. They hadn’t changed a day, not that they would want to. Old as time, Daud believed, as they all did, and still wearing the face of a youth, The Outsider gave chills in the innocence of their face but their demanding voice. 

“After the death of the Empress you’ve been silent, distant. I expected more of you.”

Daud wanted to say something, anything, but could not think of any excuse. 

The Outsider was on him then, just a few inches away, and if they breathed, their breath would have mingled. “You came here for a reason,” they smirked, “what is it?”

Daud coughed, trying to pull away. He couldn’t say it, not out loud. He’d hoped that The Outsider would be able to read him, to just know. There was a good chance they did, but wanted to hear him say it, to watch him squirm. 

“I want-“ they were getting it, him squirming, trying not to make eye contact, looking anywhere else. “I want to feel something. Anything.”

The smirk grew then, their face cracking into a horrible smile. “The death of the Empress did more to you then you let on. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Daud shifted. They’d done this before, more times than he’d like to admit, and every time he had to say it. “I want you to make me feel,” he admitted, a rush coming from him, leaving him even more hollow then before. “I need you to hurt me, pleasure me, take from me until I can’t give any more, whatever you want.”

The Outsider stepped down, feet landing on the floor like they were on an alien planet. They put their hand, cold as death, on Daud’s face. They seemed pleased. “Good. Suck me.”  
Daud hesitated, looking at The Outsider for any further instruction. A sharp pang of pain slashed into his face, making his cheek burn. The Outsider looked at their hand, the palm heating and reddening from the slap. Then they put their hand on him again, framing his chin and cheeks, their index finger pushing against his lips. “Suck me.”

Daud did, opening his mouth to let the cold fingers in, let them probe his mouth, scissor around his tongue. He looked to The Outsider, to see their response, but their face was marble, set in its ways, no emotion marring it. The fingers should have been smooth, as if The Outsider has never lifted one in labor, but instead they were rough with calluses. They were cold as the dead, as The Void, on the rare occasion he went there. 

The Outsider pushed down on his tongue, making him almost gag, as they drew closer, nose nuzzling the side of Daud’s face, almost sweet in a strange way, backwards and incomplete. “You say you wish to feel, but what do you wish to feel? Pleasure?” They licked along the scar that left a deep groove in Daud’s face, starting at the lip and traveling all the way up, only missing his eye by his closing it. They pulled back, looking at him as the sensation of the saliva, cold as the rest of them, chilled his face from the slight breeze from the holes in the rafters. The line of it went hot suddenly and the coolness spread deeper, the scar reopening and his blood seeping down the cracks and wrinkles in his skin, dripping. “Or pain?”

Daud almost surged forward to catch the frozen lips before him, not having an answer for them. One or the other, or both, it didn’t matter. As long as he was feeling, as long as it was The Outsider making him feel. He couldn’t imagine allowing anyone else to do this for him, with him, for the damage to his reputation would be enough to ruin him forever. 

Instead, he stood still and suckled on the fingers pressed inside of him. The Outsider cocked their head and unceremoniously pulled their fingers out, not to dry them of saliva, not to force Daud to turn around so they could plunge them inside him once more, but to stroke them through the hot claret still seeping from the reopened wound. It tingled and burned, the flayed open skin reacting violently to the tender caress. 

The Outsider pushed their fingers into Daud’s mouth once more, crowding him and lapping at the space they’d opened up with their tongue, both feeding him and themself on his blood, pushing him backwards as they did so. Daud had tasted his own blood many times over the years, from fighting and fucking, from teeth and blades, but it was never like this. The hot liquid, the icy tongue, the complete power that The Outsider had over him. 

They only stopped when Daud backed into the shrine, hands flailing behind him, clumsy, foolish. One slipped as the blood from his wrist slicked his skin. He gripped the shrine for balance and cold tendrils wrapping themselves around his wrists, forcing them to stay on the shrine, forcing him to be subservient. He wanted to break away from The Outsider, to see what he was wrapped in, but there was nothing that he could do without the God’s permission. 

The Outsider stepped back, looking around Daud to see the wisps of Void that had followed them out into the real world, pinning Daud to the shrine made for them. They chuckled, low in their throat, the way a spider might upon finding a large and bloated fly in their midst. 

They reached into the side of Daud’s red coat, now stained further with the red of his blood, and drew the half sword that he kept there, too long to be called a knife, after all. They bounced it in hand, making the thing seem like it was no more than a toy, and then slid it through Daud’s clothes easily, not asking, never needing permission themself, and turning the layers that he wore into fine ribbons. Each cut sliced not only through cotton and leather, but through flesh, and by the time Daud was nude, there was a constellation on his chest, made up of droplets of blood. 

The Outsider dragged the dull edge of the half sword across Daud, tracing his once defined muscles, now hard bricks in his body instead of sculpted and toned, made for necessity instead of looks. 

“What should I do with you, hmm?” The Outsider mused, their free hand snaking its way down between Daud’s legs, dragging from the cleft of his ass forward, cold fingers scraping along his balls and up over his hard and wanting cock. He hadn’t even realized he was hard, not until now, when all he wanted was to thrust into that cold hand. The Outsider smiled, feeling his restrained humping, and twisted their hand, dragging it back along his length, pulling the foreskin back too far before pulling their hand away, leaving him aching and pained. 

The Outsider was close once more, lips against his ear. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“Please,” he grunted, not used to the word, not used to asking, “just fuck me, suck me off or jerk me, I don’t care. Just do something.”

The Outsider pushed their thumbnail against the sensitive head of Daud’s erection, making him hiss. “Be more specific.”

Daud shook his head, as if forming words was too much for him, an impossible task, “Ride me, make me come, do whatever you wish.”

The Outsider started to stroke him again, hand too hard, squeezing his erection, giving him more than enough pressure with the rhythmless tugs and pulls. “You came to me, to my altar, and you show such little respect? All you ask for is for yourself. What will you give me for my services to you?”

Daud shuddered, wanting desperately to reach out, grab The Outsider, stop them in their ministrations. It felt like his penis was about to be torn from him. His hands, his arms, could hardly move, trapped where they were with the essence of The Void, forcing them to remain splayed behind him on the shrine. 

“What do I have to give?” Daud begged, not knowing what he could offer that the God would want. 

The Outsider relinquished their grip, a little bit, but not too terribly. “You want to feel something, all you humans do, after all. But what of me, locked in The Void? Only able to come out but rarely. I want to feel something too, I want to feel what they feel, the fear of being hunted.”

“You want me,” Daud stared at them, exasperated, “to hunt you as a target?”

The Outsider let go of him and he could feel himself slouch, knees bending as relief flooded him. “Not now perhaps, but soon. Allow me the chance to feel fear, for the first time in millennia.”

Daud bit his lip, finding the scar still dripping slightly, burning as his expression tugged on the parted flesh. “Yes. Yes, I will do this. Eventually.”

With that settled, The Outsider straddled his hips, impossible in their positioning. He was still standing, as best he could, hands splayed on the shrine, unable to relinquish it. The Outsider was perpendicular to his body, a strange angle that they did not feel was outside the limitations of physics. They rutted against him, their own penis flaccid but growing a darker color, filling out, as they slid their cheeks against his abdominals, as if that was enough stimulation for either of them. 

They leaned down and lapped at Daud’s hot skin, made hotter by the blood brought to the surface, the drops skittering down his sides to trace his muscles. He flexed, involuntarily, and the definition of his youth returned to the plains of his flesh momentarily. 

Only once he was clean, for the moment, did The Outsider pull away, and he shuddered as the cool air hit the wetness on him. The Outsider looked strange, mouth filled with his blood, lips, chin, and cheeks smeared red with it, as if they’d been kissing some young noblewoman in the shadows instead of the aging assassin.   
Daud almost fell, arms buckling as he felt the cold darkness leave them, letting him have his hands once more. He pushed himself upward, readjusting, but he hadn’t been given his tools for his own comfort. They were there for work. 

They took one of his hands, the one without the thick leather glove, the one that had blood crusted along it from where Daud had sliced just above. They held it to their darkened lips, and then pushed his fingers into the warmth of it. Warm, the opposite of everything The Outsider had ever been. They lavished his fingers, pulling them in and out of their mouth, coating them all in the sticky pink liquid of blood and saliva. Daud stared at them, transfixed, unable to do anything else, once again forgetting the painful hardness pressing against his belly. 

“Touch yourself.” The Outsider ordered, pulling themself off enough to let Daud reach his blood coated hand down between his own legs. They were shaking. He kept eye contact, tried not to let The Outsider see just how much he was shaking, unsure of why he was. Like this, there was hardly enough weight for it to be muscle strain, but there was a strange feeling in his gut, one he hadn’t had since he was just fresh to all this, to murder and sex both. He felt nervous. 

“No.” The Outsider growled, looking behind themself to see what Daud was doing. “Not your ass, I have no need for that yet. Get your erection nice and wet, so you can give me pleasure.” 

Daud’s eyes shot open and he stared at the youth still resting against him, their erection now full and purple, not with blood but with something else. They were waiting for him and they were growing impatient. 

He rested his ass against the shrine, knowing how much of an insult it could be, although the form of the shrine didn’t seem to matter as much to The Outsider as it did their followers. He placed his gloved hand along the base of his erection, flat against his pubic hair. The bloody one he wrapped around himself, tugging unceremoniously, watching to see the red head pop up from between his fingers, the blood smearing over it to make it darker. The Outsider watched him, looking at his face before turning so they could see when his erection was wet enough. 

“Hands behind yourself.” The Outsider ordered and, again, he obeyed. He could feel something wet, something dark and cold, reach beneath him, pull him off of the shrine just enough that he could no longer balance himself on it, and wrap around his wrists once more. They were pinned beneath him and whatever the darkness was, it undulated against his skin, letting him lie down, but not be at peace. He could feel it, slithering past the crack of his ass, slide against the opening that he had expected to be filled by now. He wanted it to be filled by now. There was no reason for him to ask that though, he was here to do what The Outsider would allow of him. 

At the moment, The Outsider was allowing him inside, settling down over his hips once more, positioning their hole over his red cock, holding it firm as they sunk down. With most it would be submersion into a glorious hot heat but with The Outsider it was an icy grip, too tight to allow for any pleasure. Daud hissed through his teeth, wanting to pull away from The Outsider’s unrelenting walls, but unable to, both from his own need and the substance holding him. 

The Outsider rode him hard, whimpering as they palmed their cock, setting the pace. Daud groaned and pistoned, trying to match their rhythm, but a glare put him in his place and he lay there, taking what The Outsider was giving him, another gift. Slowly, the hole loosened, the blood and spit not enough for lubricant. It never warmed up.   
Soon The Outsider was gasping, spreading their legs so that they could dig their heels into the always moving thing underneath them, arching their back and setting their cold hands on Daud’s knees, bucking up and moaning, without abandon. 

Somewhere, deep inside Daud’s gut, a pressure began to build, The Outsider’s ministrations, urging his orgasm to bud, and he wanted so badly to grab onto the slender pale hips and thrust, give The Outsider a fucking they’d remember for the next lonely century, and come into them with a scream. He could not though, could only take what The Outsider wanted, which was speeding up as they groaned and wailed. 

They took their erection in hand, held it still as they bounced up and down, sliding their foreskin through their tight hand, shoving down onto Daud. They were beautiful, white red and black, like a doll, a God, a promise, all mixed into one. Daud could feel the bud grow, ready to blossom and he arched his own back, biting back his cries as he forced his hips still. 

The Outsider must have realized how close Daud was as they pulled off of him with a slick pop, their ass bright red from the blood inside of them, dried and flaking, whatever lubrication it had given dried away. 

They slid up his body, hands on his face, and he moaned, so close to orgasm to have it taken away. He hoped that his need was easy enough to read and that the God would have pity on him, allow him to finish. 

Instead they positioned themselves over him, knees digging into the darkness on either side of his face. Daud just lay there, breathing, trying to ignore the ache in his tightened testicles. The Outsider watched as he panted before falling forward, on hands and knees, so they could shove their cock into Daud’s mouth. 

Daud tried to show them his worth, to suck and lick, to tease The Outsider’s head with his once skilled tongue. The Outsider didn’t care for that. The blackness beneath rose, slid over Daud’s eyes, his nose, encasing his face in cold and darkness. He stiffened, wanting to shout, to fight, remembered the feeling of drowning as a child, but The Outsider started to move. They thrust into his mouth, into his throat, as if his muscles and teeth weren’t fighting the intrusion. As hard and fast as they had ridden him, it was double that now as they slid into his throat over and over again, panting as they fucked his face. He could feel his lungs burn, could feel his body struggle, sweat, and try to tear from the bonds. The Outsider didn’t care. They just shoved themself inside deeper. 

He panicked, could feel nothing but bile in his throat from where The Outsider fucked him and the burn in his lungs and the tingling deadness in his hands and feet. The Outsider was going to kill him, suffocate him with their cock. 

They pulled out and he sucked in a ragged breath, sputtering. He panted for a moment, trying to get as much into himself as he could, but The Outsider was back in him, shoving into his throat as if they’d never stopped. Again he flailed, tried to buck them off, but it was all useless. 

It didn’t take as long this time though, as The Outsider shoved so deep that the coarse hair on their stomach tickled his obscenely stretched lips. 

They came cold, as he’d expected, body shaking somewhat as their ejaculate flowed down his throat. When they pulled out and Daud sucked in air, he could smell it, taste what was left over on The Outsider’s cock. It was salt water, tinged with the smell of kelp, the ocean. 

“Now,” The Outsider mused, watching his chest heave as they pulled off of his chest, making their way back to his neglected erection. “What should I do to you?”  
Daud tried to answer, to beg for release, but all that came out was a sputtering whine, his throat to raw for words.

The Outsider was silent and Daud squirmed, wanting to know what they were doing. The ooze beneath him shifted, as if something was being pushed through it and then, a finger rested at the entrance of him. The Outsider drove the finger into Daud, wet nothingness easing the way. Daud still flexed and pulled, back arching at the suddenness of it, but The Outsider kept going, pushing and prodding, sliding that ice against his prostate. 

A second finger joined the first and Daud bucked, the pleasure a terrible spike inside of him, the pain tightening his hole to intensify all of it. Without sight, everything was more vibrant, and he panted at the sharpness of touch. The Outsider sped up, sliding their free hand over the muscles and scars of Daud’s thighs, brushing but never actually touching his begging cock. He moaned and growled, whimpered and whined, wished that he could form words as The Outsider shoved a third finger in, over stimulating the small muscle.   
Daud came, his mouth wide to scream as the built in pressure released, his ejaculate a stream of whiteness to spill onto his own chest. 

The Outsider smirked, drawing his fingers from Daud’s leaking hole, the blackness oozing out of him. He smacked Daud’s face playfully, looking down at him. “There. Feeling better?”

Daud grimaced, hands coming free and aching, throat doing much the same. The darkness was lifted from his eyes and he was blinded by the brightness around him, the ooze sliding out from beneath him, and he did his best to right himself before falling. 

“Feeling,” he admitted, panting.

But he was alone and The Outsider was gone, leaving him to find his way back to the Flooded district with his clothing no more than a mass of ribbons, wounds healing too quickly, and The Void oozing between his thighs.


End file.
